Dirty Letters(69)

I signed a few autographs on my way to the entrance and then located my manager to go run out and make sure Frankie got some VIP treatment. Since the sound check I’d come early to run through wasn’t ready for me yet, I headed to my dressing room and sat down to play back the video I’d recorded.

Watching it made me realize how much being with Luca had really changed things for me. I used to get a high walking into a concert venue filled with screaming fans, but now I got that same feeling thinking about having a little girl with Luca someday. Money and fame couldn’t buy happiness, and I was starting to think I’d trade thousands of women wearing my face on their chests for one woman resting her face on my chest at night. That was pretty fucked up.

But my Luca had had a tough few days. She and Doc had ventured out to get Hortencia some food, and she’d had a meltdown in the store. Apparently she’d had an easier time with little outings like that before our incident in Chicago, so she’d been feeling particularly defeated lately. The video was the perfect message to cheer her up.

Or so I thought.

I typed a text out before attaching the video.

Griffin: This little beauty’s name is Frankie. She looks just like I picture our own little girl might look. Frankie picked the song to sing, but the words couldn’t be more fitting for how I feel without you by my side, love. I stand still. The world keeps spinning, but I stand still without you. XO Call you after the show tonight.

I hit “Send” just as the sound tech knocked on my door. “Ready when you are, Cole.”

“Sounds good. Be out in a minute. Just waiting to hear back from my girl.”

I watched as the message went from “Sent” to “Delivered” to “Read.”

The video was probably a minute or two long, so I didn’t expect an immediate response. Though after ten minutes, I didn’t want to keep the team waiting too much longer. So I headed out to the stage. I checked my phone one last time before we started.

Still nothing.

Luca must’ve been busy writing. I knew how I got when I was in the middle of composing a song. Sometimes I’d go into my own little bubble, and making any outside contact would pop it. I figured I’d hear back from her by the time the sound check was done.

Though I figured wrong.



“What the fuck, Luca?”

I paced back and forth in my hotel room after hitting “Redial” for the tenth time. Luca hadn’t written back by the time my sound check ended. She also hadn’t written back by the time the concert had started, either. When I still hadn’t heard from her after the show ended, I started to worry. So I’d sent her a text to check in. Just like the video I’d sent, she’d read it but sent nothing in response. I also left her a few voice messages.

Could I have upset her with that video I’d sent earlier? Was there something on there that would have made her get angry or sad? I didn’t think so, but just to be sure, I played it back twice and reread the text that I’d sent along with it. As far as I could see, the messages were only a sweet reminder to Luca that I’d been thinking about her.

Since nothing should have upset her, it made my mind wander to even worse scenarios. I started to get nervous that something might’ve happened to her. Of course the worst shit ran through my mind.

Someone broke in and she’s lying there unconscious.

Yet my texts were being read. I supposed the intruder could be reading them. Though that seemed ridiculous for even my vivid imagination.

She fell and hit her head.

Again, was she lying there reading her texts while gushing blood?

Unfortunately, there was only one thing that made sense.

Her last few tough days were weighing heavily on her, and she didn’t want to talk to me.

A sense of déjà vu hit me. I knew this feeling. Eight years ago I’d felt an overwhelming sense of dread when I went to the mailbox every day and found no letter from Luca. We might’ve changed our mode of communication, but my gut told me the same shit was about to go down—my girl was starting to pull away from me.



The next morning, we had to leave by eight in order to get to our next stop. I was exhausted as shit, because when I finally fell asleep last night, I woke up every half hour to check my phone for a text from Luca. None ever came.

Clinging to a last-ditch hope that maybe she’d fallen asleep early yesterday and then slept in today, I waited until we stopped for our first gas fill-up, and the guys hopped off the bus to get some breakfast, to call in the big guns.

“Hello.”

“Hey. It’s Griffin. I’m sorry to bother you, Doc. But I’m worried about Luca. She’s not answering her cell—not text or calls.”

Doc sighed into the phone. “This is a difficult situation for me, son. I have doctor-patient confidentiality with Luca. Yet I care about her.”

Fuck, I was afraid he’d say that. “Can you just tell me if she’s okay? When was the last time you saw her?”

“I was with her this morning for an hour.”

I felt relieved she was okay, but my chest physically ached confirming she just didn’t want to talk to me. “She’s okay? She’s not physically harmed or anything?”

“She’s physically okay. You shouldn’t worry about that.”

I felt so damn helpless this far away. “I know you can’t talk about her issues. But I don’t know what to do. I’m on the road, and I can’t get there right now. Can you tell me how I should handle someone who has some extreme fears? What would you tell a husband or a wife who came to you for advice on how to manage someone with extreme anxiety who’s distancing themselves?”